


After the end, in the beginning

by Malory2



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, F/M, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Violence, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s), Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malory2/pseuds/Malory2
Summary: After the events with Samaritan, Grace and Harold start to mend theor relationship. John, after missig his chance to confess his feelings, tries to step back. Until Harold ask his opinion about the perfect proposal...
Relationships: Harold Finch/Grace Hendricks, Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	After the end, in the beginning

"Finch, I bought you some .... tea." John trailed off as he took in the scene in front of him.

The library was its usual melancholy self despite the beautiful summer day outside. The smell of old book and sencha pearmeted the space. John took a deep breath, letting it wash over him. In the past six years he came to associate this mixed scent with home and safety, something he never thought was possible for him, not after all the red in his ledger.

The computers were faintly humming in the background as two people talked over them, leaning closely together. Their head was bent, almost touching as they whispered to each other. Johns heart clenched at the sight in front of him.

"Hello John." Grace looked up and smiled sweetly at him. " You're early."

Harold cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, blushing slightly. " Yes, you are indeed, Mister Reese." He said tightly and took a sip from his take away cup.

John forced a smile and surreptitiously shifted his tray at his side, blocking it from the other two.

"I finished earlier, and tought I come and take Bear out for a longer walk." I thought we could ate lunch and take Bear for a walk together. " I didn't mean to interrupt, we will be gone in a minute." He starts backing away, taking care to hide the cooling tea from view while walking toward the closet where they stored Bears things.

"You're not interrupting, Harold was just telling me about those married numbers who tried to kill each other." Grace absently scratched Bears head in her lap. " I'm happy they could work out their differences and had a second chance at love."

"Yes, they were lucky." Harold smiled adoringly at Grace and a silent communication passed between them. This was not a new development between the former fiancees, John catched them looking at eachother like that more and more often, almost reading each other's mind. His stomach rolled at the scene and hastily called the dog beside him.

"Well then, well be going. I take him home with me for tonight if that's fine with you, you could spend some time in privet." He was really proud how even his voice was, that CIA training finally paid off.

"Oh, of course. Mister Reese, I thought we could eat lunch together, if you are amenable to that." Harold played with his cup, not looking at John.

"No thank you Harold, I already ate. But bon appetit to you, see you tomorrow. Call me if a number comes up."

As a good operative, he always knew when to make a strategic retreat, so he grabbed Bears leash and quickly walked away, the echo of Graces goodbye haunting him until he stepped out into the sunshine.

He glanced around and started walking towards a nearby park, picking one of his favorite routes. It was lined with cafes and shops, providing both cover and entertainment along the way. Bear whined softly and bumped his hand with his head, than silently walked beside him while John let his mind wander.

More than a year passed since they took down Samaritan and bis men. John was severely injured, but thanks to some miracle - or his stubbornness, according to Harold - he survived and recovered relatively fast. In his last moments, slowly bleeding out on the concrete, the only regret he had was never telling Harold how he felt, being too much of a coward to take a chance. He swore that if he survived, he wouldn't let the older man slip through his fingers anymore. During their years working together he felt more than once that Harold was attracted to him, and hoped that the genius would give them a chance.

Unfortunately, John missed his opportunity while spending a month in a medically induced coma. When he woke up, Harold already reconciled with Grace, though he only put together the story from snatched conversations and office gossip - or what passed as office gossip among their rag tag team. After the fight with samaritan, Harold reached out to Grace, explaining her the necessity of his actions and telling her about their work with the numbers. Of course, they couldn't pick up exactly where they left off, so they started over as friends, going on regular tea dates and lunches. They quickly grew closer together, like the past five years never happened. It broke Johns heart every time to see them together, intimate and clearly so in love. The hollow in his chest that started to fill up with home, safe and Harold suddenly became more pronounced. Of course, knowing what the older man endured in order to save the numbers and spare Grace, he couldn't fault him for grabbing his second chance at love, no matter how much it hurt him.

John was snapped out from his thoughts when Bear bumped his leg and looked up at him, eager to start their walk. He bent down and patted his head then started walking towards the park.

"Cmon boy, lets go give them some privacy.'

Xxxxxxxxxx

The next morning John went to the library relatively late after taking Bear for a run and cleaning his guns. Just a bit past nine, he couldn't delay anymore he got himself together and headed there, forgoing his usual breakfast tea for Harold. After a sleepless night he wasn't in a mood for a meal with the happy couple. Hed go there, drop Bear off and find some Russians to beat up.

His plans were shattered the moment he saw Harold sitting on front of his computer, being absorbed in some coding. There was a table with two set of silverware in it, a pot of tea and a box of donuts, the setting was clearly romantic. Looked like he had to find some Italians along the Russians. It shaped up to be a really bad day for New York's criminal underbelly.

Harold glanced up from his computer and hastily got up, knocking over a pile of papers. The silently fluttered to the floor, while the two man stared at each other.

"Good morning, Mister Reese." Harold cleared his throat and limped towards the table. "I hope you enjoyed your walk yesterday."

"It was fine Finch." John crossed the space between them and started collecting the papers from the floor. " Do we have a new number?"

"Yes, we do. Sal Jenkins, a young engineering student, who suddenly dropped out of school and disappeared. It looks like we are not the only ones looking, there seems to be a man involved, military from the looks of it."

John quickly scanned the papers, glad for the distraction.

"Well, I go and try to track down our mystery military man. I'm sure it will be fun."

"For you maybe, Mister Reese. But before you go, can I interest you in some breakfast? We skipped our usual lunch yesterday."

Johns heart skipped a beat for the offer. Maybe he could not convey his feeling to the older man, but they relationship still changed. Since he got out of medical care, Harold introduced some activities to their schedule: lunches or dinners together, walks with Bear in the park, sometimes even a museum exhibit or two. These times were the happiest for him, spending time with the man he loved, even if they could be never more than partners. Then he glanced at the table and immediately lost his appetite.

"Where's Grace? I wouldn't want to interrupt."

Harold tilted his head and frowned at John.

"She left yesterday night, she has an exhibit in a few weeks and trying to finish her last piece. So, breakfast Mister Reese?" He looked so hopeful, John didn't have the heart to say no, so he sat down and poured some ths for the other man. Harold give him a smile - one of his real, happy ones, the one he got when they managed to save a number or finish a code. He took the opposite seat, adjusted his glasses and took a doughnut out of the box.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, as they often did on their little dates - at least as John liked to think of them, even if he would never act on his feeling. Grace was a wonderful person and he never wanted to hurt her or Harold.

"So Mister Reese, what are your thought on marriage?" Harold worriedly glanced up from the decimated remains and his meal at Johns choking.

"I'm sorry?" His voice was rough while he tried to clear out his windpipe.

"Marriage, Mister Reese. The legal and emotional, sometimes spiritual act when two people... "

"I know what marriage is, Finch. What I don't know is why are you asking me about it."

"Well, while I have my reservations about it, I believe it is a nice way to celebrate love and to the couple to declare their relationship to the world. Of course, in our case we have some difficulty with the legal side of things."

Johns knuckles turned white on the tea cup. It looked like things progressed well with Grace then. While it devastated him, if this was what his friends wanted, he would stand by their side and be happy for them.

"Well?"

"I never really thought about it. With Jessica, it wasn't an option, not then. I wasn't in a place where I could make that kind of commitment, and she wasn't either." He slowly swished the tea in the cup, then took a small sip." But I think that with the right person, it is something really meaningful. Even if its legally not binding or anything, the gesture itself... Yeah, you're right, it's a beautiful way to celebrate love." His voice trailed off and he started to pick at his food in embarrassment. Even after all these.years, talking about his emotions was difficult, even with - sometimes especially with- Harold.

"That's good to hear. And how would you describe an acceptable proposal?"

John stared at Harold for a moment, then simply reached over the table and but his hand on the genius forehead.

"Are you sick?"

"I am perfectly fine Mister Reese, if you do not wish to talk about the topic, then please, do say so, and we can find a different topic of conversation." He batted John's hand away with a huff, and grabbed his cup, almost spilling the content over himself. John placatingly held up his hand and settled back in his chair.

"We can talk about whatever you want, I'm just surprised." He swept his eyes around the rows of books, seriously considering the question, after all, Harold asked him. "To be honest, I never thought about it. For me, if the person I loved proposed to me, I would be happy, no matter when or how they did it. The only thing that would matter is the fact that they want to spend the rest of my time with me. Everything else is just cloak and dagger." Harold obviously looked disappointed in his transfer, so he hastily continuous." But I think it should happen in a location that meant something to us: where we first met, or where we fall in love, someplace that's special for us."

John was starting to warm up to the idea, imagining all the places where he would like to propose to his partner: the bridge, the library, maybe the park where they regularly took Bear for his walk.

"But it could also happen at home, with just the two of us. That's important. Just us, nobody else. It's too private a moment for that, and it's not fair to the other party. They should have the option to say no. And..." he cut himself off in embarrassment when he noticed Harold looking at him with a small smile on his lips.. " So anyway, that's what I think. And it doesn't have to be overly romantic, just... natural." He hastily gulped some tea down, wishing for something stronger.

" I think that sound perfect, Mister Reese." The beeping of the computer interrupted their moment, giving the perfect opportunity for John to escape. Harold fot up and limped toward the machine, while the other man started toward the weapons cabinet. " It looks like our mystery military man just appeared in an ally. I am sending you his coordinates, please try to get some information out of him."

"Don't worry Finch, I get what we need." And it would be the perfect opportunity to let out some steams. Nothing breaks like a nose under a well executed right hook.

"Please be careful,Mister Reese."

John waved back while walking away, already anticipating a good fight.

Xxxxxxx

John grunted as the thug landed a punch in his stomach. He blocked the one going for his face then quickly punched him out.

He spun on his heels when he heard a gunshot go off behind him. Shaw lowered her weapon and kicked the body.

"You're welcome." John nodded in thanks and looked around, trying to find the other gang members. He touched his earpiece.

"Finch? Any information about the others?"

" A moment please Mister Reese." The sound of the clacking keyboard was clear in his ears. " They going down in the west staircase. If you go now, you should be able to catch up with them "

"Thanks Finch." John picked up the gun, checked the magazine and started running towards their target, Shaw an unwavering presence at his back. They jumped down the stairs, trying to catch the as soon as possible, preventing their escape. He could feel the air burning his lung and the adrenalize in his system. He lost himself in the familiar rhythm of the chase, enjoying it in a way that was probably no too healthy. They rounded a corner, spotting the escaped thugs. Shaw jumped in front of him, making short work of their would be assailants. John nuged their leader on his back and efficiently searched his pockets, finding the pendrive they were after.

"Finch, we got it. I'm heading back to the library. "

"Good work, Mister Reese. Our detectives are already on their way they will be there shortly. Can Ms Shaw stay there until they arrive?"

"Yeah, no problem. I have a date with Root later, so I leave the rest to you."

John could feel Harold disapproving frown from the other end of the comm. No matter how much help Root was to them during the years, she and Harold could never see eye to eye regarding the Machine, and her relationship with Shaw did not help the situation. John honestly didn't care about it as long as she didnt threatened Harold, and they kept the killing to the minimum. He hid his smirk behind his hand and nodded to Shaw.

"Thank you, Shaw."

He started walking down the stairs, and slipped the pendrive into his pocket when Harold switched to their private channel.

"Mister Reese, what do you think about the Central Park or the Botanic Garden as a wedding venue?"

John stumbled on his next step, steadying himself on the rails. He hissed in pain when his shoulder zinged from a wound two days ago.

"You all right old man? Need a hand getting down?" Shaws mocking voice echoed down to him.

"Im fine." He grumbled and started walking again, concentrating on the steps.

It looked like Grace accepted Harold's proposal, no surprise there. In the past week, Harold didn't bring up their bizarre conversation, and John was more than happy to ignore it. He couldn't detect any change in either of their behaviour, so he concluded that in the end Harold either didn't ask, ir Grace asked for a bit more time. It didn't even occur to John that she might refuse it, after all Harold was the one asking. He knew that his feelings for the other man were pointless, it still broke his heart to hear it, to have all his locked away hopes so truly shattered. And Harold's obvious excitement only made thing worse, eve if he wasn't deliberately cruel.

It looked like he was wrong, and couldn't read his partner as well as he rough. John steeled himself and put on his best CIA voice.

"Well, Harold, I think both are beautiful, but not ideal in our situation. Too much exposure, too much people. Maybe something that's more private? Don't you own an island or two?"

There was silence in the comm for a long moment.

"Or what about the library or a gallery? " He hurried on." We can secure those, and I'm sure Grace would love it too."

"Yes, I am sure she would appreciate a gallery. Though a firing range would be more your style." John snorted at the idea.

"No, that would be Shaw's idea of a perfect wedding. I'd prefer our cemetery. " That place hold a lot of memories to him - and it would be poetic, two dead people promising eternity to each other on their graves. What could he say, he was a romantic at heart.

Harold hummed thoughtfully at his ear.

"That certainly seems appropriate. See you soon then." Harold clicked off while John frowned to himself. He seriously hoped Grace never found out whose idea was the wedding in the cemetery. That woman could be dangerous.

Xxx

The pattern continued in the next week. Every time John relaxed, Harold popped up with another question regarding weddings and marriage. What kind of flower would John prefer, what are his thoughts on canapes, and silver-blue or a traditional black-white would be a better color scheme? No matter if they were in the middle of a gun fight, John was getting ready for sleep or were out for dinner and a movie - Harold seemingly got random ideas at any time of the day.

John seriously hoped he was getting the answers right, otherwise Harold would be in neck-deep trouble with his bride. A wedding was not something that you joked about. Not to mention every time Harold asked one of his questions, the bleakness in his heart became a bit more pronounced. The time of the wedding still wasn't decided, but with every day, it undeniably came closer.

Bear woofed and dropped a twig at his feet, his tails wagging excitedly. John picked it up and throw it, looking as the dog ran after it.

"He seems to be in good spirit." Harold carefully lowered himself onto the bench and offered a cup of tea to him with a hopeful smile. "Can I interest you in a cup of tea?"

"Thank you." He carefully sipped his tea and tracked Bear as he frolicked with the other dogs. "Do we have a new number?"

"No, we don't. It's just a beautiful day and I thought we could take Bear to a walk. There is a weapon exhibit in the MET, would you care to go with me?"

"You don't like weapons, Finch." John quirked an eyebrow while their dog pranced in front of Harold.

"Yes, that's true Mister Reese, but you like them quiet well, and it would be beneficial for us to be up to date with the latest trends." He adjusted his glasses and stole a glance at the man sitting beside him. "Well?"

"I don't really feel like weapons today, Harold."

"I see." He looked crestfallen, but quickly masked it with his usual emotionless facade. Before he could say something or apologise, John hurriedly went on.

"But it's a beautiful day. Why don't we zake Bear for a long walk on Coney Island and then eat dinner at that little thai place on fifth?" Now it was Johns turn to look hopeful.

"That certainly sound like a good plan, Mister Reese." Harold sipped from his cup and contentedly laid back on the bench. John casually put his hand behind his back.

They stayed at the park, playing with Bear for a long time, then take a leisurely walk on the Island. Harold excitedly chattered on about his latest book acquisition, some first edition or another, while John scanned the crowd and listened to him, getting lost in the cadence of his voice. The glittering sunlight reflected off the waters surface and Harold glasses, making them glitter like diamonds. Bear enjoyed his freedom and shamelessly enjoyed the attention that random passersby give him.

It was a calm, balmy day, one of the few day offs they had in awhile. Harold was right, the numbers never stopped coming, but days like this, the calm in the storm gave them power to go on, no matter how dangerous or desperate their situation turned into. John looked at Harolds profile with a fond smile while the other man looked out at the sea. These stolen moments were all he could have, and he was determined to enjoy them as much as he could.

After their leisurely walk, they spend a good hour eating dinner at their favourite thai restaurant, keeping up their chatter about irrelevant, yet oh so important things. When finished with their meal, they slowly ambled to Harold's house, a homely apartment near Central Park, with a fascinating view of the city - at top notch security.

After the events with Samaritan, as soon as John was able, he started following Harold, making sure he was all right every hour of every day. But no matter how stealthy he thought he was, he still wasn't one hundred percent back, more like sixty, if he was honest.

He still remembered the night when he followed Harold home and found his house. He was standing outside in the rain in his suit, feeling a chill in his bones that was partly from the weather, and partly from his emotional storm. His wounds still hurt like hell, and he even nodded off once or twice while keeping watch.

The rain suddenly stopped falling on him. He looked up at Harold's kind face, who was sheltering him with an umbrella. His eyes were sad and full of worry. He obviously changed clothes in the minutes - or hours - while John stayed outside, because he was wearing a nice brown slack with a white shirt instead of his bespoke suit.

"What are you doing here, Mister Reese?"

"Keeping watch Finch. Someone has to make sure you're safe." John shivered in his wet clothes and unconsciously tried to get closer to the warm radiating from the other man.

"Well then, maybe you should come in and get warm. You can't protect me from here." Harolds voice was gentle and full of concern for his friend.

"But you're a private person, Harold. I don't want to intrude." John felt his grip on reality slip, the drugs in his system and his coming child getting too much for his abused body.

"I think we are way past that, John." He put his arm around the other man, supporting his weight and steadily leading him to the penthouse. " Let's get you up, nice and warm." John could feel.his body heat sweep into him, warming him in places he didn't even know still existed. He leaned into it, enjoying the sensation and carefully putting one leg after the other, trying to help Harold helping him.

They rode the elevator to the top floor, using a code to gain access to that level. The doors opened directly into a beautiful sitting area with a breathtaking view of the city. Harold careful dragged John to a sofa and helped him sit down.

"Your sofa's getting wet, Finch. I should go out. Or the bathroom. I can sleep in the tub."

"Nonsense, Mister Reese, this is just water, it will dry. Stay there please, and don't move."

John mumbled an unintelligible answer and slowly slipped into a drugged haze.

The next morning he woke up warm and comfortable under a fluffy blanket, to the sound of Harold making breakfast. His head was spinning, and his whole body ached with old and new scars, stark reminders of all the times he failed. 

Most of that night remained a mystery to John, even now, he couldn't recall what happened after they got to the billionaire apartment. That they they ate their breakfast in companionable silence, then Harold let him recuperate in his apartment for days. Those days were some of the calmest, happiest of John's life.

Since then, he often found himself wandering that way after a particularly taxing Number, like a stray dog seeking out the hand that feeds them instead of hurting, chasing away all the darkness in the world. John knew that he could always find a safe haven there, good food and warm bed - even if he had to sleep it in alone.

Now they stopped at the main entrance, Bear sitting between them in the pleasant evening, the air carrying with itself the faint scent of autumn.

"Would you like to come up for a glass of whiskey, Mister Reese?" the older mans tentative voice almost got lost in the usual bustling of New York streets.

It was a tempting offer, spending more time with Harold, listening to his brilliant ideas and being in his presence. John was ready to accept when the reason for today's... contemplating mode flashed in his mind. Harold was a taken man, and these snatched moments were all he could ever have. But he was like an addict, and Harold his drug, the one thing he couldn't live without. With the impending wedding, it would be best to decrease his fix so he didn't die when it was completely taken away. He forced a smile and ignore all his instincts screaming at him to take what was freely offered.

" Thank you, but I think I'll pass. It was a long day, and knowing our luck, we will get a number in the morning. I better go and try to get some sleep." Or try to find somebody with glasses, refined taste an a bespoke suit who could be amenable of fucking him into oblivion.

Harold regarded him with a thoughtful gaze, his cheeks pink from their walk.

"Mister Reese, when do you think it's ideal to have sex in a relationship?"

John heaved a sigh and buried his face in his hands, saying goodby to his sanity.

"I don't know Finch, really. When the two people involved feel like they should. There isn't a limit or anything. If it would me, and I loved them, I would do anything that would make them feel good, either if it was making love every day or never at all. But shouldn't you ask Grace about it?" The end came out more resigned and dull that he had intended, but these questions were getting too close to home, cracking his carefully erected shields. When Harold didn't answer, he peeked out from the cover of his hands.

The other was looking at him baffled, and a bit hurt that didn't make any sense to John.

"Why would I ask Grace?" Now it was Johns turn to feel confused.

"Because she's your fiance? Because your going to marry her? Because she's the one who you will make love to?" the instead of me was clearly audible in the end. Even he was surprised by the defeat and hur in his voice, his carefully crafted barriers lay in dust at his feet, making all his emotions visible for all to see. Looks like this would be the end of their friendship, maybe even their professional relationship. John braced himself and looked at his partner. 

Harold looked wrecked. All the color drained from his face, his eyes were full of hurt and confusion and something akin to pity. It physically pained John to see him like this, seeing his whole world shatter to pieces without any chance to save it.

"I'll go now, yeah? Talk to you later." He started to back away, hoping to get as far as possible to drown the last few moments i n a bottle of whisky. Maybe that way tomorrow they can pretend this never happened. Before he could turn around, Harold stumbled forward and grabbed his sleeves with trembling hands. His eyes were desperate and pleading as he almost collapsed into John. He three out a hand to steady him, careful to keep their contact to a minimum.

"Mister Reese... John. Please. Come up, please. We have to talk. We.. there seems to be.. We have to go up and talk" Harold was babbling, something he never did in all the years they knew each other. John closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself and get a hold of his emotions. Whatever it was that Harold wanted to talk about, it was obviously important to the billionaire.

"Harold." John gently cut off the stream of words and took Bears leash from the other " Let's go up and talk, yeah?" He squeezed Harold's arm encouragingly and started to let go, but the older man grabbed his hand like a lifeline and held it in a crushing grip. He determinedly nodded and started walking towards the elevator, dragging John after him with surprising strength.

The elevator ride was one of the longest of John's life, even the soft music didn't to anything to dissolve the tension in the air. Harold was a stiff and unyielding presence at his side, keeping a careful distance between them, while also tightly holding onto the taller mans hand, like he was afraid that John would ran away if he let go. As if he would have anywhere else to go. As if he would leave behind his home and heart for any reason. He decided a long time ago that he would go only if Harold asked him to, and even then not that far so that he couldn't protect him - and all he held dear. He carefully held Harolds hand back, trying to reassure him without words. Words had to come later.

The elevator arrived with a soft ding and Harold started to purposefully lomp towards the couch the moment the doors started to open, pulling John after him. He almost showed him to the soft cushions and pointed a stern finger at his face.

"Sit. Stay. Don't move. I'll be right back." He hurried towards his bedroom, leaving Bear and John behind in stunned silence. The dog, feeling that something was amiss, leaned into the man's side, beseech imgly looking up at him. John arched an eyebrow in response.

"I wonder which one of us he meant." He remarked softly, then continued to scratch Bears head in silence, trying to calm his nerves. The last time he felt thi unbalanced was at an airport almost seven years ago.

After an eternity, yet too short time later Harold returned flustered, hiding something in his palms. He stopped in front of John for a moment, then dragged a chair in front of him and carefully sat down, facing the other two. He nervously patted down his clothes and adjusted his glasses, preening like one of his many namesakes.

John gave him time, he wasn't too eager to break the silence, and talk about whatever was left to talk about. He puts all his cards on the table, now iz was Harold's turn to show his hand.

"There seems to be... a misunderstanding of sorts between us." Harold was resolutely staring at something behind John shoulder. "I would wish to correct it. Then we can proceed... whoever you wish." He visibly swallowed and shifted his eyes, meeting John's confused ones for a moment then quickly fluttering away. 

"What kind of misunderstanding?" Despite his own emotional turmoil, John spoke softly, like one would to a cornered animal. 

"You seem to be under the impression that Grace and I have rekindled our previous relationship." The exagents heart skipped a beat at tbe words. Harold steeled himself and looked into Johns eyes, visibly fighting with himself to be open. Words like this wasn't the genius strength, especially not in person. After that fateful day at the rooftop, sometimes they spent nights talking to each other over their comms about insignificant things, but once or twice they touched old wounds and hurts that they could address only in the darkness, when they were the only two people awake in the city. The next day of course they acted like nothing happened, and never mentioned it again. Right now Harold tried to break his oldest habit, his secretive nature fighting with him at every turn. He closed his eyes. "We didn't. We talked a lot after... everything, but we both knew that it was over. We didn't even try. Grace has grieved his fiance, buz was happy to have her friend back, she even met with someone once or twice. And I... I was in a relationship by the time. A serious, committed one. I was even thinking of marriage." John gripped the sofa hard. Some spy he was, he didn't even notice that Harold fell in love, not to mention he had a relationship like this. His hopes that started to grow a minute ago got crushed completely. It looked like he had to be a best man after all.

Harold opened his eyes, and whatever he saw in John's face, made.him grasp one of his hands, the other still hiding something from him.

"John... It was you. I thought we were in a relationship." For a moment he just stared at the other man, mind completely blank, not comprehending the words. Harold's worried, played.with his fingers, while Bear nudged his knee. After a moment of stunned silence he choked out a strangled "What?"

"I believe that you were attracted to me, and that after Root took me the first time.. that we have begin our courtship." Johns laugh was at the edge of madness. Trust Harold to talk about courtship in the age of AIs. The other patiently stroked his hand and waited until he got himself under control. 

"You thought we were courting."

"Yes."

"But we never really did anything romantic."

"We went to the movies, took Bear for walks, we even went to an art exhibit together!"

"Because of a number! And those weren't dates! They aren't dates if we don't say they are dates!"

"You said it." Harold quiet voice stunned John." I invited you to dinner, and you said "It's a date." So it was a date." His heartbroken voice shook Johns soul. " At least that's what I believed."

John stared at him, mind whirling. He really did say that, but only meant it as a teasing remark, not hoping to achieve anything. Harold was so out of his league, not go mention still in love with Grace. Or not, according to this conversation. In his mind, he put their relationship in a different light, and he could almost see watch Harold was talking about. But there was still some things he needed to talk about.

"What about Zoe and the other... women?" He asked tentatively." You thought that I would cheat on you like that? With someone right in front of you?" The thought upset him, that Harould would believe him capable of such cruelty, to doubt his devotion to someone he loved with all his heart.

"Nothing in your file indicated sexual desire towards your gender. Not to mention, I am old and crippled." His bitter, self deprecating tone was like a pinch to John. " I thought that you loved me, but did not desire me. If .. If it meant having you romantically, I could endure not having you sexually."

Johns inside grew colder with every word. He thought about all those times he brought women to hotels, times Harold undoubtedly knew about. Sometimes he even threw it i his face, like a child seeking attention. Look what you could have, it could be yours. He thought about Harold, alone in the dark and lonely library, maybe even listening in. Harold, thinking himself undesirable, but still enduring it, in sake of a relationship. He slide to his knees with a sob, and desperately hugged the older man, burying his face in his stomach.

"John?" Alarmed, Harold tentatively started petting his head. " John, it's all right." He shook his head and hugged him more tightly. "Really, it's all right. It was my fault, I assumed.. "

"You assumed wrong" Harold stiffened in his hold. " you are desiarnel. I dedire you. Those women were are replacements for you, if I knew I could have you, I wouldn't have touched them. Not one of them." His words were muffled in the others body, but he still had to try to make him understand." The silence were broken only by Johns occasional hiccup for a while. When he calmed down a bit, he carefully sat back up at the plush sofa and looked at Harold. They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, the tear tracks glistering on their cheeks.

"So. You thought we were dating." John said cautiously, still a bit wary. Harold nodded mutely, obviously waiting for John to continue. " Putting aside our obvious failure to communicate, this means that you don't want to marry Grace." He got another nod in return, Harold still unwaveringly looking at him. The gears in John's head were spinning, calculating and analysing, putting together the pieces of a puzzle. The result was clear, yet so dream like he hadn't dared to believe it. But he had to ask, he had to make sure. He took a deep breath and jumped, hoping that Harold would be there to catch him. " Then those questions about marriage and wedding. Was that for me?"

Harold slowly brought his hand up, and opened his palm, putting his heart out there for John to see. In his hand, there was a beautifully engraved pair of silver cufflinks. The others hand was slightly shaking, so John gently took it from him, examining the graving scolesly. It was a bird, a finch in mid flight, the craftsmanship exquisite and obviously worth a small fortune.

"I didn't want a ring or anything that could be used to hurt you. There's a gps tracker and a mini bomb inside, so it can help you if you are in trouble." The billionaire said coolly. " Of course given the circumstances, you are under no obligation to accept them, or at least not as they original function. I would, however, be happy if you could find some use for them."

"You're not the only one who was operating under bad intel, Harold." John reverently looked up at him, then back at the cufflinks. " After the rooftop, I wanted to tell you. But I thought you were already with Grace, and your happiness is more important to me than anything. So I decided not to say anything, wanting to stay close to you, even just as a friend. " He looked up and put the gift back into Harolds hand. The older man's face closed off, getting ready for the rejection. John delicately held his hand, and bared his soul." I love you. I loved you for years. Im sorry I hurt you. If you can forgive me, can we start over?."

He carefully wiped away Harolds tears, resting his hand on his cheek. He nuzzled into hit, silently crying. John stroked his cheek reassuringly.

"Of course we can, John." He gave a watery smile." I look forward to the chance to court you." John slowly leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

"There's no need." He whispered." We were courting for years. So why don't you ask me?"

"John Reese." Harold breathed the words into Johns skin. " Would you grant me the honor of marrying me?"

Johns yes got lost when their lips softly met.

Xxxx

Later that night they laid in Johns bed, under the covers, both of them to emotionally exhausted to do more than trade feather light kisses and whisper secrets into the night. Things they were afraid to say, which they held closed in their hearts but now broke free. They fell asleep in each other's arms their limbs intertwined.

The next morning was one of the happiest of John's life. He made breakfast, all the while stealing glances at Hafod, still not quite believing that this is real, that he can have this. His partner hasn't fared any better, touching John every opportunity he got - a hand to his shoulder, his arm across his waist while he stood in front of the stove, nuzzling his neck. Light touches to reassure both of them.

They spent their breakfast in content silence, basking in the feeling of their new-old relationship. When they put on their clothes, John reverentry foxed his new cufflinks, admiring them in the daylight. Harold catched his hand with a small smile and kissed his hand, while gazing into his eyes.

"Why don't we go and take a walk. It's a beautiful day, and today is the opening of Grace's new exhibit. We could go and take a look." John nodded, and called Bear, who trotted over with his leash in his mouth.

"Let's go."

The day was a bit overcast, not radiant like the one before, but still ideal for a walk. They took Bear to the park, sitting on the bench, their legs touching, contentedly watching the dog.

John couldn't help comparing the day ro the previous day. Then, he could only watch from afar, hoping that he could stay by Harolds side as a friend. Now, he had everything he could wish for, and a lot more that he felt he deserved. Slanting his eyes downwards, he admired the cufflinks.

"I see you like them." Harold's voice was warm, a smile hiding in his voice.

"I love them." He swallowed nervously and ran his fingers over them. " I love you." Harold pressed his leg into his, the germs spreading through his entire body from that point of contact.

"I love you too."

They spent the next hour playing with Bear and enjoying their quiet day, basking in their new found relationship. After lunch, they headed for Grace's exhibit, where they blended into the mass of art lovers. Harold quietly explained her art, while John simply admired the colors and shapes. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realise that this was the first time that he wasn't actively jealous of her. A part of him will always envy her for her relationship with Harold, but now he was the one that had the genius's love, and this feeling washed away all his resentment towards her. 

"How do you like them, gentlemen?" Grace's playful voice came behind them. 

"They are beautiful, Ms Hendricks, as always. We are truly lucky to have an artist like you as a contributor to our newspaper." They mischievously smiled at each other, then Grace's eyes fell to Johns cufflinks.

"Congratulations. I told you there was no need to fret." John curiously arched an eyebrow.

" He was worried?" 

"Yeah, really worried. I told him he didn't have to be, but he didn't listen. He's stubborn like a pigeon." But you now what?" Grace leaned slightly closer, her eyes twinking. " Take me to lunch, and I tell you e the thing with the ..."

"Well then. " Harold glared at her behind his glasses. " I think we should go now."

"But you didn't even see my masterpiece yet." With a pout, the artist started to herd them towards a back room, where more paintings were displayed in a more traditional style.

She stopped in front of a central piece, witch hunt alone on the wall. It wasn't big, maybe a meter long and 50 cm wide, but Johns breath caught when he saw it, and he could hear his partners sharp inhale at the same time.

It was a traditionally styled painting, not the modern, impressionist ones. At the center, there was a sleeping dog - a Belgian Malinois - who was surrounded by books, in piles around them, at the shelf behind. It was obviously a library, an old and used one. 

John grabbed Harolds hand, who squeezed it back.

"I titled it Home."

Xxx

They left the gallery in a daze, still under the spell of Grace's painting. Because that was home, their home. And she honored it in a timeless way. They sanctuary, their heart where they saved people and faced impossible odds to do so.

As they walked down the street, Bear happily trotting between them, a payphone started to ring a bit ahead of them. Harold passed the leash to John, then hastily limped to grab the receiver. After listening to the Machine, he slowly put it back then looked at his fiance at his side with eyes full of love and determination. 

"We got a new number. Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reeding, I hope you enjoyed it. Only positive comments are welcome, if you found any typos, please let me know.


End file.
